Reconsecration
by Choosing Sarah
Summary: After the Eye of Jupiter 3x10, Lee makes a personal choice.


Title: Reconsecration

Author: Choosing Sarah

Rated: K+ some mature themes but not much in the way of rough language and only vague reference to violence

Category: Angst, Drama

Characters: Lee, Dee, Kara

Spoilers: The Eye of Jupiter (3x10)

Disclaimer: Not mine. No infringement is intended and no profit is made, but might I be so bold as to point out that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?

Summary: After the Eye of Jupiter (3x10), Lee makes a personal choice.

WARNING! If you came for a feel good Kara/Lee love story, turn back now because it's not here.

After their hurried jump away from the Cylons, Lee watches the deck crew tug the last Raptor inside the hanger deck. He knows by the landing that Starbuck didn't fly it. He wonders if she and Dee watched each other at all during the hectic flight from the Algae Planet, even as he knows that Kara wouldn't have taken her eyes off her husband's dead body, and Dee would've only made fleeting eye contact with Starbuck before flickering away. He's found that there's always something of a promise in his wife's gaze, no matter who she's looking at, and she's got a hard time locking her stare just before she makes a decision.

"Major Apollo?" Dennicee, Galen's new deckhand from one of the Geminon freighters, approaches with a clipboard. Lee lets himself be distracted with the mundane task of combat inventory while the Raptor unloads.

He's going to have to face his wife and his girlfriend, but he'd rather not do it at the same time.

The bottom sheet of the board lists the casualties that Galactica's already recorded. Lee licks his lips, tightens his jaw. He yanks the pencil from its hold in the metal clip and very neatly prints the names Sgt Hawthorne, PO Harris, and Sam Anders with a plus two below to indicate two civilians he'd never known the names of.

When he looks up again, Kara's Raptor has already unloaded. The people who'd crammed in earlier are scattered throughout the hanger deck. Dee is nowhere in sight, so the passengers must be scattered throughout the ship, too. The dead will need to be removed for space burial. He approaches the ship gingerly. He's not surprised when Kara emerges alone, a single tag on the chain she carries in her hand. She must have left the other with Sam as she did before on Caprica.

She doesn't look up at his approach, but she pauses on the edge of the wing when he's a meter off. She jumps down and away from him, shunning any possible assistance he could offer. She might've walked away, but he places his hand on her shoulder. Kara shrugs off the gesture, slowly but pointedly. Instead of stepping off though, she stills.

Lee slides forward tentatively, and she doesn't move away. His hand tries for her shoulder again, and when her palm comes up to cover it, he echoes the movement on the other side. He slips his arms around her from behind. She leans into him. He buries his face in her hair, wanting to tell her he's here and he loves her: He'll always love her. Instead he breathes deeply through his nose, smells her sweat and the must of the planet, the tang of blood in her hair. He notes the way she surrenders to his touch—the feel of her breasts just beneath his arms as they cross over her chest, the solid warmth of her up against his whole body. She turns suddenly, unexpectedly, wrapping her arms around his middle while they're still there in the hanger deck, hiding her face in his neck.

The wet heat of her mouth and nose gives him chills even now, after everything. Lee holds onto her tighter. He kisses her hair just behind her ear.

"I'm sorry about Sam," he whispers and means it.

The wetness seeping into his skin down to his collar tells him she heard him. Finally she nods.

"I need you," she puts her mouth to his ear, voice low. "I really need you right now, Lee."

He runs a hand down her spine, silent as she waits. "I'm here," he finally responds but doesn't follow the invitation with any motion of his body.

She wipes her face with the back of one hand and pulls away just enough to look at his eyes, and she sees what he's really saying: _I'm here for you, Kara, but not like that. Not anymore_.

She looks away, but not before he catches the heaviness in her gaze, the sudden sorrow that's not just for the loss of Sam anymore. Lee nearly reneges, but the image of Dee comes into his mind's eye, and he sees his wife's bravery, her self-sacrifice, her grace, her fire—slow-burning but constant. And he's never loved his wife more, never been so proud to wear her ring or so ashamed for tarnishing hers.

Kara nods, her arms sliding from his shoulders. Her breath shudders, and she keens, low and deep. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, to prevent further sounds from escaping. He runs his palm down her arm, inviting her back into his embrace, but she shakes her head. He would still hold her if she'd let him, but he knows she won't. A part of him even wonders why she's still standing here beside him when she won't accept anything from him—it's always all or nothing with Starbuck, and only ever on her terms. Another part of him recognizes she hasn't moved yet because she's trying to figure out another place to go.

Lee shifts from foot to foot and wonders where his wife is. He shouldn't leave Kara like this, doesn't want to leave her like this, doesn't ever want to be done with her truth be told. He'd made a choice, though, when he'd married Dee. He'd gone back on it, would've renounced it completely if Kara had just been willing. But then, if she had been willing, how long would it have been before Kara was Lee's wife and Lee was the one telling the next guy how much he loved her, how it'd always come back to the two of them no matter who was warming her bed at the moment?

Lee sees it now, contrasts this projection with the life he has with his wife—small touches through their days in the CIC, soft smiles every morning as he awakens by her side, a furrowed brow or gentle grin shared as he talks about the problems with CAP and they both rue about the loss of the Pegasus even as she knows he loves being CAG much more than he ever liked being a commander, and he knows how much she missed the Galactica's crew when she transferred to be with him. Then there's Dee's even tones that color by the smallest shades as she tells him about her own day and the new challenges she faces as an officer that she didn't have as an enlisted. Beneath it all is that slow burn that is in everything his wife does, every part of her that is. And he loves it. Lee really loves his wife. His passion for Dee may not burn as brightly as the torch he carries for Starbuck, but he finds himself just as consumed by it now.

Lee loves them both, but he trusts his wife in a way he's never been permitted to trust Kara, in a way that Kara has always given him cause to doubt.

Kara glances upward, her eyes meeting his again. He knows his gaze softens, sees it in the reflection of her expression. The intimate stare reminds him of the last time they'd made love down on the Algae Planet two days before the Cylons showed up.

He doesn't know what pulls his attention away from Kara, but he looks up and directly into his wife's eyes. He wonders how long Dee had been watching them. His wife's lashes fall, her neck clenches as it turns, and she sucks her upper lip into her mouth. Lee steps towards her, necessarily away from Kara, again and again until he's right in front of Dee. Her eyes—filled but refusing to overflow—remain fixed away from him.

Hands on her hips, he pulls Dee into him. His wife's body comes stiffly, like it's forgotten how to move with him. Lee leans his forehead into Dee's, closes his eyes, and just breathes her in.

"I'm sorry," he whispers before he knows he's going to speak.

Dee sucks in a harsh breath and turns into him. "Lee?" she shudders delicately in question, a direct opposition to her inner strength, and pulls back within his embrace.

Releasing his lashes, Lee meets his wife's stare. "I'm sorry." He stretches his thumbs towards her waist.

Dee looks from eye to eye. Is she judging his words? His sincerity? His meaning? He sniffs and steels himself, waiting for her to ask. He'll answer her. He silently promises Dee the truth of everything—even if she asks him in the middle of the frakkin' hanger deck.

A slow smile starts across her face. Even as cautious as the expression is, Dee's tentative lips make him smile back. She lifts her hands, which had hung stiffly between them, up to cup his jaw. She tickles him just below his ears with the span of her fingers.

He kisses his wife's smile—affection and apology, love and surety, and under it all, determination.

He raises his right hand to stroke the band encircling her finger where it rests against his neck. He'll get it right this time. He closes the distance between them, his very kiss a swear towards his intentions. When they part, Lee presses his lips to Dee's cheeks, her lashes, her brow, moving back past her cheekbone to her sensitive earlobes.

"Lee!" his wife finally giggles when his quick kisses reach her neck. She tugs on his jaw, pulling his lips back to hers. Her mouth is sweet, open, gentle. How could he have ever wanted more?

Dee's grin spans her face when they pull away to breathe.

"I love you," he tells her without provocation, without expectation, without any dressing besides that single declaration.

The words make her bite her lip, but her smile doesn't fade. "I love you, too." Dee raises her hand—fingertips in his hair, palm to his cheek. He can feel the small hard metal of her ring, a contrast to the softness of her hand. She lifts her eyebrow, shifts her hips. "Do we have time for a shower before we have to report?" his wife flirts with him.

"Maybe just this once," Lee teases back, sliding his hand from hers to cross over her shoulders as she turns around to exit the hanger deck. Dee grabs his fingers where they hang down the right side of her neck. He gives one last kiss to her temple, and they walk out together.

He can feel a set of eyes on them as they move, but when he looks up, it isn't Kara's stare he finds but Helo's. A quick glance around confirms Starbuck must already be gone from the hanger. He expects condemnation when his gaze flips back to Helo, but instead of reproval, there is a reprieve. A nod tells him Karl will look after Kara as best as he can, as much as she'll let him. Lee nods back—a thank you, an apology. Lee looks down and then back to his wife. Her eyes are already on his. She must've seen the whole exchange.

Dee leans into him, her ponytail pushing into his shoulder, letting the room fall away as they stride together. Lee lifts her left hand with his own. He kisses the ring she's kept on her finger for five months. She grabs him back, raises his hand to her lips, and copies the move. Lee shares a world in the smile he exchanges with his wife. He's made his choice, and it's the only world he wants.

END


End file.
